Poetry

You, Golden Apple

We do not want you to go blind.

You have sailed away

from us

and we want to bring you back

back to

the fresh old days

cooking and slouching in your kitchen

eating pasta

straight from the pan

messily.

I barely knew you then

before you began to dwindle

arms and legs becoming twigs

a lost child in a crowd

you enveloped yourself in painful fabrics.

we do not want you to go blind.

the other girls were made of plastic

but you were cotton, golden silk

why

did you want

to be like them?

late at night sewing music

from wood strings and ivory

ribbons became rhythms

and birds

fluttered from your fingers.

we do not want you to be blind.

we want to protect you

from the glass vampires

that lie to you.

the mirrors

the camera lens

the tv screen

and the computer screen

all lie to you.

sharp glassy teeth

of a blind writhing worm

it gets bigger each day

whilst you

get

smaller.

don’t let it blind you.

please

come back to us

feast

get drunk on not caring

with sugar in your veins-

no fruit is forbidden.

You are a spicy golden apple

and we do not want you

to be blind

any longer.

Rose Lock